Naptime Is Best Time
by RyoseiHime
Summary: Simmons tries to get Grif off his ass but falls prey to temptation. Rated Teen for safety.


"You're still on duty," Simmons argued.

Grif exhaled a puff of smoke and stared up at his favorite kiss ass. He just knew that the war wouldn't be the thing to take Simmons out. He'd bet anything on an aneurism. He didn't even shift. His lounging was at maximum comfort. He wasn't ruining that for whatever ridiculous order Sarge had for him.

"Hey, I took the shower. That was my duty."

"Showering is not a duty! It's common courtesy to your fellow soldiers. So we don't suffocate on your stench before the Blues can try to kill us."

"Yeah, well, I'm still wet. Can't get back into my armor wet. I might. Be electrocuted. Or something."

"Uh. Your armor is water poof, idiot."

Grif knew the look Simmons was giving him behind that visor. Raised eyebrow, disgusted exhaustion, the nearly defeated eyes. He didn't even need to see it. It was one thing those helmets were good for. You really learned how to read the people around you.

"Dude, you need to learn how to relax." Grif put his cigarette out on the floor and and sat up. He reached out for Simmons' wrist. "Come here."

"Grif, no, we're on duty."

Simmons' protests were empty and feeble. Grif barely had to tug on his arm to pull him to the floor and the uptight soldier's hands automatically landed on Grif's knees. Grif cupped his chin in both hands and surprised Simmons a little. He ghosted his lips over Simmons' visor for a moment. Then he lifted the helmet off and discarded it. Simmons preferred his helmet when dealing with other people, especially Grif. Now there was no way to regain any semblance of control over the situation. His face was flushed even before Grif caressed his cheek. That bastard knew what he was doing.

"Simmons," Grif whispered. He kissed the redhead's forehead. Simmons fingers clenched, tangling in Grif's jogging pants. He had to say no. They couldn't fool around on duty. If Sarge fou- "Nap with me."

"Wait. What?"

Simmons was caught off guard. That was the tone he'd expected but not the words. Or was Grif trying to turn nap into a code word...

"Nap with me," Grif repeated, tone still intimate and semi-dramatic. "Be a rebel."

The grin on Grif's face wasn't suggestive. It was mischievous, but when Simmons searched his lover's eyes, he found nothing but childish rebellion. A smile started sneaking across Simmons' own face, though he fought it.

"That's crazy," he declared, mock-seriousness filling the words.

"Crazy like a puma."

Simmons let the smile loose and Grif caught it with a kiss. Simmons lowered his head to Grif's shoulder for a moment to hide the laughter in his eyes.

"Fine. You win."

"I always win," Grif stated, beginning the peeling away of Simmons' armor.

Simmons sat back to help and before long he was stripped down to his zero-suit, arms and legs tangled in Grif's. Simmons' head rested against Grif's shoulder and his fingers played across the other man's bare arm.

"Prepare for the thrill of rebel napping, Simmons."

"But napping is relaxing. Wouldn't it be...the chill of rebel napping?"

"I like the way you think, Simmons," Grif replied with a yawn.

As comfortable as Grif's arms made him, Simmons was asleep in no time. Not even Grif's snoring disturbed his sleep. So, neither soldier heard the footsteps approaching.

"Hey Simmons," Donut started. "Sarge said-"

Donut stopped short when he turned into the bunks and found his teammates in one another's arms.

"A sleep over? And no one invited me?" he voiced out loud. "Hm..."

Sarge stomped down the hall, grumbling to himself. He might expect this sort of disobedience from Grif, but Simmons?! He wanted to give his second in command the benefit of the doubt. Maybe Grif was taking some more violent and time consuming persuasion. Heh. Yeah, he could be stubborn. Sometimes it took a good kick in the rear or shotgun to the face to -

"What in sam hell is goin' on in here?!"

Sarge wasn't sure he actually wanted an answer to that question. Simmons snapped awake first, and his arm tried to fly into a salute reflexively. Trapped under Grif's neck, it only managed to whack the Hawaiian in the head instead. Grif's immediate response was to find a hold and push himself up, but his hand ended up on Donut's shoulder.

"I was just resting my eyes!"

"Hey, ow!" Donut cried. "Not so hard!"

"Donut, what the hell?" Simmons demanded, sitting up. "Get out of Grif's bed!"

"You were in Grif's bed! I thought we were having a sleep over! It's rude to leave people out of group activities!"

"Out!" Grif demanded, shoving Donut's legs off the bed.

Sarge stood in the doorway. No, he didn't want to know. He turned and walked away. Best to pretend this never happened. Yep.


End file.
